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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519412">Nothing But Trubel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321'>MissCrazyWriter321</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grimm (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action, Canon Compliant, Chaos, Gen, Humor, Missing Scene, Mystery, Platonic Relationships, Season/Series 04, Team Up, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:40:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not exactly a cop,” he points out slowly, stalling for time. </p><p>She doesn’t blink. “Nope. I’m a Grimm.” There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s still a revelation for her each day. “Might as well put me to work.” </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theresa Rubel &amp; Sean Renard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020 [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Comfortember 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nothing But Trubel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, everyone!!! This might be stretching the Comfortember thing a little, but Trubel's an unusual character, and I feel like in her case, it qualifies. Technically, the prompt this fills is "Road Trip," though I may be stretching that a little, too. </p><p>Basically, this is the Season Four team-up we deserved. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s his own fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows better than to bring a civilian out into the field like this, even one as unique as her. But when she strides into his office, held head high, the offer is a little too tempting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the thing,” she blurts, without even giving him a second to talk, “Nick says you know about me. And I know about you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I want to help.” She pauses, considering, and shakes her head. “I need to get out of the house. Your mom found a way for Nick to turn back into a Grimm, but he’s not sure he wants to do it.” There’s an odd note to her voice that he purposefully does not question. “He and Juliette are talking about it, trying to decide, but I can’t listen to it anymore. So…” She drops into one of his chairs with a thud, leaning back and settling in. “Got any cases for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He weighs his options. For the moment, he’s not going to question Nick’s situation. If worst comes to worst, he might have a word with Nick and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>encourage </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to reclaim his powers, but for now, things are relatively calm. (Relatively. This is Portland, after all.) But Nick did say that he wants to protect her from this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not exactly a cop,” he points out slowly, stalling for time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t blink. “Nope. I’m a Grimm.” There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s still a revelation for her each day. “Might as well put me to work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m your only choice now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She doesn’t say it, but they both seem to hear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well… There is that missing woman. Tessa Wright. Captured by two unidentified men “in masks” just under twelve hours ago, her trail is somehow utterly cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An extra set of eyes couldn’t hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’m going to go talk to some witnesses. You can come along, but stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>in the car. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Understood?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Totally.” She hops to her feet, a wild grin flickering on her face. “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, he already does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t stay in the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, he’s not sure what he expects. She’s a Grimm, after all; they aren’t known for following anyone’s rules but their own. Frankly, a part of him wants to have a good laugh at Nick’s expense, because if that man honestly thinks he can keep Theresa Rubel out of this world, if he honestly thinks he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>protect</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, he’s naïve at best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other part of him just really wants her to get back in the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, who do you think you are?” Growls Williamson, a doctor who treated the woman hours before she disappeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theresa smirks, taking a step toward him, and Sean can see where this is going before she says a word, the proverbial falling glass he cannot catch. “I’m a Grimm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Williamson seems truly baffled, which is a good sign that he isn’t Wesen. That doesn’t mean he isn’t the culprit, but Sean doesn’t have time to ponder that now. He needs to step in before Theresa gets even deeper over her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like goth for the new generation,” he chimes in smoothly, with just the slightest undertone of warning in his voice. Thankfully, Theresa seems to catch it, because she doesn’t argue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Williamson rolls his eyes. “Listen, kid, I could care less. Now, I don’t know where this woman is, and I don’t appreciate these unfounded accusations. You will be hearing from my lawyer,” he adds to Sean, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s exactly what they need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On behalf of Portland P.D., you have my apologies.” Sean doesn’t linger-he can come back to work on diplomacy later, on his own-just jerks his head for Theresa to follow him back to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment’s hesitation, she does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the doors close behind them, she turns on him. “What was that? You’re just gonna let him walk away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has some nerve, he’ll give her that. “I’m sorry, were you wanting me to arrest him for something? I mean, there’s nothing to charge him with, but I’m sure he’d love to have something to add to that lawsuit he’s putting together to end my career.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffs, but doesn’t argue further. “Fine. Where to next?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next?” After this disaster of an interrogation, he thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>next </span>
  </em>
  <span>might be him hiding in his office, cutting his lights off, and pretending he doesn’t exist. “Next, I drop you off with Nick. Then, I spend the next five hours trying to do damage control.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How on earth does she look </span>
  <em>
    <span>surprised? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What, you’re benching me?” She scowls. “No way. We need to find that woman. Admit it, you need my help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do realize I was closing cases for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years </span>
  </em>
  <span>before Nick became a Grimm, right?” Not as many, not as well, and he’s quite certain that it would have been better </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>a Grimm, but he’s not about to admit that to her. Besides, it’s becoming painfully obvious that she isn’t Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts the car, fully intent on driving to Nick’s and making Theresa </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem again, when she clears her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait-” Sounding less like a fearsome Grimm, now, and more an urgent young woman. “Please, just… I want to help. And I can’t go back there; not yet. I mean, it’s awkward, but also… Listening to them talking about being a Grimm like it’s some kind of curse… It sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of himself, something in him softens. This girl has obviously been on the run a long time, and if her files are anything to go by, she spent a long time thinking she was crazy. Nick gave her this gift, turned the part of her she hated into a good thing, but now that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nick </span>
  </em>
  <span>could get that gift back, he’s hesitating. Sean can definitely see why that would wear on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” He shifts gears, pulling out of the parking spot. “I’ve got a couple more witnesses to talk to. If you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>stay in the car, you can come. If not, you’re going straight back to Nick.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief washes over her face, and she settles back in her seat. “Great. I can do that. No problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he wishes she sounded just a little more convincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay in the car,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he snaps, or tries to. It lacks his usual bite as he stumbles, and she has to hurry to catch him before he falls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping under his arm, she scowls up at him. “I think the words you’re looking for are </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Unlike him, her irritation is unhindered, and he should probably be a little more worried. After all, he just watched her take out three Blutbaden without batting an eye. Still, all he can muster is gratitude as he sags against her, letting her take as much of his weight as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, this is more than a little embarrassing. He’s better than this. But everyone has off days, and one Blutbad was able to get a good shot in before Theresa got her hands on him. Now there’s pain radiating from Sean’s gut, and he once again owes this girl his life. (Though he did technically die the other time, so perhaps it doesn’t count.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am grateful,” he admits. “Really. But if something happens to you while you’re with me, guess who Nick will come after?” And an angry Nicholas Burkhardt is more terrifying than any ten Blutbaden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives a huff of acknowledgement. “Good thing I know how to take care of myself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches for the driver’s side door, and she jerks back, pulling him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, given the blood currently pouring from his body… “I was thinking I’d go to the hospital, if that’s okay with you.” He doesn’t sound as sharp as he’d like; it comes out more of a wheeze than anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffs. “You think you’re driving like that? No way.” She opens the back, helping him inside, and he wants to argue, but some distant part of his brain points out that she’s probably right. “Here.” After just a split-second, she tugs her jacket off, pressing it against his stomach. “Keep pressure on it. And give me the keys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s hurting too much to argue, so he reaches into his pocket, handing over his key. He does have to ask, barely pushing past the pain as she hops into the driver’s seat, “Do you actually have your license?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a moment’s hesitation. “I can drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wonderful. Just wonderful. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to the hospital is long and gruelling, and he never realized it was such a bumpy road, but with every slight jostle, a new wave of pain runs through him, and he closes his eyes, willing the drive to be over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no falling asleep,” she warns, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think she hits the next bump on purpose. “Nick’s not gonna be happy with me if you end up dead, either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If nothing else, they can agree on the fact that they really, really don’t want to deal with Nick Burkhardt being mad at them. “How much longer?” Not to sound like a whiny kid on a road trip or anything, but he has lost a good bit of blood, and that’s really not… Ideal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe ten minutes.” Which is probably supposed to sound reassuring, based on her tone. Funny. “Just don’t go dying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I’m definitely not going anywhere. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A particularly sharp pain runs through him, and he woges without warning, his control slipping terribly. When he looks up, he can see her eyes reflected in the mirror, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself </span>
  </em>
  <span>reflected in her infinitely dark eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unnerving. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She stiffens, and for a moment, he worries that he said that out loud. Then, she clears her throat. “You good there?” Careful. Reserved. Calculating. Trying to determine if his woging makes him a threat, he realizes, so with great effort, he manages a reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aside from the… Bullet hole… I’m great.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, she relaxes, dropping her gaze back to the road. “Good. I’d hate to have to cut your head off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That threat should probably be a little more terrifying, but he can barely </span>
  <em>
    <span>focus. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least if she cut his head off, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For awhile, they fall silent, her focusing on driving, him concentrating on </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>passing out. Finally, though, he realizes it’s a losing battle. He’s lost too much blood, and exhaustion is tugging him under. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there,” she announces, as his eyes fall shut. “We’re almost-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t hear the rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes, he’s in a hospital bed, lights dimmed above him. His body aches, but the piercing pain of the bullet has faded, thankfully. All he can hear are the steady beep of the machinery, distant voices of nurses outside, and… Someone snoring? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few tries to muster up the strength, but finally, he turns his head. There, settled in an uncomfortable plastic chair, head on her arm, sits Theresa Rubel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stayed? It’s not like they’re exactly friends, after all, for all that she has saved his life. And it must be late; surely Nick and Juliette are looking for her by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last thought lodges itself in his brain, refusing to let go, and he clears his throat. She startles awake, hand jerking back to her pocket, where there is </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>a weapon that isn’t hospital-approved, even if he’s not sure what that is. When her eyes land on him, she relaxes slightly, shifting from battle-ready to mildly uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?” She checks, and he hums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little. Did you call Nick?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates. “I mean… I texted him. Told him I got caught up with some Grimm stuff, so I’d be out loud. He didn’t really ask a lot of questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Grimm stuff. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Does this really apply? “Think he’s going to notice when I don’t show up to work tomorrow,” he points out. “Besides, word spreads fast. He’ll find out I’m here soon, and it won’t take him long to put two and two together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I won’t say anything if you don’t,” she offers, and there’s definitely a thinly-veiled threat beneath the casual words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, she did save his life. “I won’t tell him, but Nick’s not a detective for nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll figure something out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From what little he knows about her, he thinks she just might. “Fair enough.” He should probably let it go, but the question lingers at the back of his mind, and he can’t help but point out, “I didn’t expect you to stay.” He leaves it open-ended, so she doesn’t have to explain if she doesn’t want to, but after a moment, she sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.” Something uneasy in her tone tells him she’s still getting used to doing the </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing, instead of simply the thing that will keep her alive. “I don’t know. Besides, I still have your key, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could easily have left it with him, of course, but he politely avoids pointing that out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They found the woman,” she adds after a moment, and he isn’t altogether sure how she found that out, but it’s a relief, all the same. “Williamson took her, so you don’t have to worry about that lawsuit. He isn’t Wesen, just a creep in a mask.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods slowly, taking this in. “Good. Wright’s okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t even have a scratch on her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Awkward silence settles over them, thick and suffocating. He doesn’t know what to say, and she doesn’t seem to either, even after everything they’ve just gone through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should let a nurse know you’re awake,” she mutters finally, rising to her feet, and he feels a sudden swell of affection for this young woman who has done so much for him, even though she barely knows him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Theresa, wait…” He holds up a hand. “I should thank you. For saving my life. And… No matter what Nick decides, I could always use a Grimm’s help.” He may live to regret that offer, but for the moment, he thinks it’s the right thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips, and she nods. “I’ll…. You know. I’ll keep that in mind.” She turns to go, then hesitates. “By the way, people don’t really call me Theresa, so… Call me Trubel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A Grimm named Trouble. A little redundant, isn’t it?  </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Trubel,” he echoes quietly. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All things considered, they make a pretty good team. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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